Blood Spatter - A Horror Writer's Blog
A Look Back At CopperCon 30
By the way, I took these pictures with my work-issued Droid phone, and I'm still trying to interpret what it's glowing eye is trying to say to me, so if they aren't the best quality you've seen, my apologies.
Being frugal enough to brave the 40-minute drive each way for three straight days, I saw no need to check into the hotel. In fact, I saw very little of the hotel at all, but I know two things about it:
One, they're far too stuck-up for their own good. Participants were not allowed to bring in any food or beverages from any outside source--not even water! That and the somewhat curt hospitality by the hotel staff made it less than satisfactory.
Two--and this is the most amazing part about it--they're located right next door to a mortuary!
I'm sure somebody somewhere has handled this idea before, but I'm sure there's a good horror story wrapped up in that situation!
But enough about the hotel. All the action was taking place in the Conference Center, and there was plenty of action to be had: panels, robot battles, music, demonstrations, costumes, role-playing games, parties, etc. For 50 bucks, it's a great way to kill a weekend if you're a sci-fi/fantasy buff.
The dealer's room was uncomfortably cold, but cold only by temperature and not by attendance. Saturday's crowd was especially robust, and Sunday's crowd, though fewer, was no less enthusiastic.
In the dry hate of Arizona (pun intended), there aren't many "horror-specific" conventions for a guy like me to jump into, so events like this suit me just fine until they come along. My hope is to connect with authors in similar situations (self-published, relatively new to the game), and with the cross-genre crowd that often makes their way into sci-fi cons. I admit the sales are meager, but the goodwill and word-of-mouth generated can go a long way toward paying me back down the line.
That said, CopperCon was the most successful weekend I've ever had in all the public appearances I've had this year. The Crawlspace flew off the table at a rate that paid for the space...twice!
My thanks to everyone who came out and bought a book! Let's do it again, say, next Saturday?
The first annual LaughingMoonCon will be a refreshing change of pace. Instead of sitting in a chilly dealers room for hours, I'll be on a panel talking with you about writing, horror, and whatever strikes your fancy. This will take place September 11 at Desert Edge High School in Goodyear, Arizona. For only a $5 admission, you can enjoy all the trappings of a sci-fi convention plus special appearances by some well-known characters and personalities. And if you role-play, they'll have a gaming room open all day starting at 11am. Trust me, you don't want to miss this!
After that, it's off to the west side and Student Life Day Wednesday October 6 at Glendale Community College on 59th Avenue and Olive starting at 10am. No cover charge for this one; this is free and open to the public! And don't forget about TusCon 37 in November!
As we speak, I am efforting an appearance at a Hallmark store (no, I'm not kidding) at an area mall, and a January appearance at the Lovecraft-themed MythosCon.
More news as it happens, when it happens. Stay in the know! Until next time...
(By the way, if you'd like to see more pictures of CopperCon, stop by the website of my ball and chain...er, day job...at KPHO.com. I should have them up by tomorrow afternoon.)
The Conduit Cast Interview
A Dark, Filthy Place...
Among our many topics, we discussed the inspirations behind the stories in The Crawlspace. He referred to the blog entry in which I glossed over the real area of my childhood home that served not only as the jumping off point for "Crawlspace" (the short story), but also forged my consciousness and perspective as a horror writer. I promised him, and you, that I would post a video of the real crawlspace here on this blog. A recent trip back to L.A. gave me the opportunity to revisit the "one-night-only" hideaway in my closet, both in moving and still pictures. How it appears today is pretty much how it appeared in 1970, which is even more jaw-dropping when you considered a 5-year-old kid walked around in his pajamas inside that room! The whole story is in the video below:
Pardon the poor editing, but this was taken with a Flip Camera, and after 15 years of editing video for television, I found the Flip Video editor to be a quite the featureless pain in the ass. Here's some still pics to give you a little more perspective:
I don't think I need to tell you that after that one trip, I never went there again! Until next time...
Behind The Crawlspace Part 13 - "Connecting Flight"
PART 13 - CONNECTING FLIGHT
This story was written after a bad experience at an airport. Flying into (and for that matter, out of) Dallas on the flight path to Shreveport, Louisiana for a family reunion in the summer of 2007, my brother and I experienced a number of delays that came within inches of ruining our entire vacation. Those of you who've had to sit on an airport floor for hours waiting for a word, let alone a seat on a plane, know exactly what I'm talking about. The experience left me with a sour taste for travel by air--so much so that I really would have no problem if I went the rest of my life without seeing New York or Tokyo.
But "Connecting Flight" isn't about airports; rather, I think this story is about the urge to be free.
I don't know this for a fact, but it's my belief that all kids express a desire to break away from the constraints of their parents even before they reach that awkward age of pubescence. Living here in Arizona, I've heard more than a few stories lately of children wandering away up in the northern part of the state, taking a leisurely three-mile stroll in the woods. Some of them, like little Travis Wilson, end up with a couple of minor scratches and a long, tearful hug from mom, but sadly, those kind of happy endings have long odds. That's the danger--and the joy--of being of kid.
Nothing autobiographical in this one. I just wanted to write a story with more of a dark fantasy flavor, and it turned out to be the perfect closer for this anthology.
Which brings me to my next big adventure regarding The Crawlspace. Given the positive responses to the book, I have decided to give it a whole new life under a new publishing brand, and this makeover will be much more than cosmetic!
If you already own a copy, be sure to put it in a temperate, dry place when you're finished with it, because you now own a rare copy! (If it's autographed, you might want to wrap it up in a box or something, because that could be even rarer!) Over the course of the next few months, I will be selling off the remainder of the AuthorHouse pressings to make room for the "rebooted" second printing, which will include four previously unpublished stories--"Guardian," "The Curse (At Your Service)," "In The Key Of C" and "The Reverse Graveyard"--liner notes on all the stories (including the new ones), and a brand new cover! The publishing company, tentatively called Fear Of Sleep Press, will be entirely my own, making this a true self-publishing project!
Look for the new version in paperback and e-book on Amazon in January or February of 2011.
Meanwhile, my forthcoming novel, If It Bleeds, is a lot like the American economy: it's coming along, but there's still a lot of work to be done. The novel will be published under the same Fear Of Sleep banner when its time comes, and when it does you'll be the first to know!
Keep it right here for poems, opinions and insights on writing. Until next time...
Behind The Crawlspace Part 12 - "Closing Time At Teddies"
In case you haven't heard, convention passes are now available for Laughing Moon Con, which takes place in Goodyear, Arizona less than a month from now. I'll be one of the guest speakers at the festivities, and I can't wait to see all of you there! Plus there will plenty of gaming and and sci-fi related events and appearances...and all for only five dollars! Make your plans now!
PART 11 - CLOSING TIME AT TEDDIE'S
There used to be a time a long time ago when strip clubs weren't such trendy party spots, nor the favorite hangouts of millionaire athletes, single celebrities and rap musicians searching for street cred. They carried with them an uncomfortable seediness on the same level as your local adult video store or massage parlor--guilty pleasures that actually made you feel guilty. I have no use for them anymore; paying a woman to tease you is a horrible waste of money, and nowadays, those places are too damn clean! When I was a young man, walking into one of those nightclubs was like having the whole world staring at you while you masturbate (granted, some of you may get a kick out of that kind of scenario, but in case you do, just play along with me for now). It was certainly true back in 1995, when something unusual happened to me in Reno.
Like most of my adult life, I was alone and easily distracted by sex. One night I walked into this club not far from downtown (I don't remember the name), looking for the illusion of intimate companionship. The women were a far cry from the Maxim models that populate such establishments these days, but they were cute and accommodating. There was only one other patron in the place, and as I was enjoying the parade of booty he took off and left me by myself.
Now, I was no rookie to strip clubs. There used to be one on Pacific Coast Highway now called The Gold Club to which I paid a couple of visits. I was familiar with the routine--watch the girls dance, leave dollar bills at their feet, and if you like one in particular, pay her to rub her ass on you. Not very complicated.
Well, somehow I broke protocoI while enjoying a drink with a skinny brunette with crooked teeth who had some redeeming quality that I found fascinating at the time. She was trying to sell me a lap dance when a redhead with better curves and straighter teeth appeared on stage. I told the brunette I'd rather take the lap dance from the redhead, and with her crooked teeth gritted into a forced smile, she politely got up and left.
As I was getting my lapdance, I could hear the skinny brunette complaining loudly to her manager about "being stiffed" and how I should be kicked out. Maybe I didn’t tip her enough, maybe she had a beef with the redhead, I don’t know. The screaming row was more than a little embarrassing and ruined the mood for me and the redhead, so as soon as she was done I left the club. I remember having twenty-one dollars left in my pocket as I was getting in my car. When I got home, there was only the one-dollar bill left.
Perhaps I subconsciously left the wrong denomination as a tip, or maybe it fell on the floor. Regardless, I took it as a kind of supernatural payback, which I turned into this story.
Next week, the final story...and some huge news regarding The Crawlspace! Until next time...
Behind The Crawlspace Part 11 - "Yellow"
PART 11 - YELLOW
A few of you have expressed your enjoyment of the last "short-short" in the collection, "Yellow," and that means a lot to me becuase I enjoyed bringing it to life. Its origins are rather unlikely considering it's a horror story.
The textbook of my Fear Of Writing class is the book of the same name authored by Milli Thornton. Throughout the book there are pages set aside for what she calls "fertile material," which under ordinary teachers and ordinary classes would be referred to as "writing prompts." On page 144 there's a prompt titled "Amber Is For Caution," which reads, in part:
"You are one of the traffic lights at a busy intersection...Describe what you see around you and how the traffic behaves...You are fed up with being controlled by a dumb computer, and you're certain you can do a better job when left to make your own decisions. What happens when you rebel and break out of the computer programming?"
I must admit I found the original premise to be a little on the purile side at first sight, but then I did what Milli wanted all of her students to do: look deeper. Question: why would a traffic light want to rebel? Answer: because deep inside of it is a life thrown out of order, forever angry and vengeful. It only wants a small piece of what it used to be. And now it performs its duty, knowing that with a little practice and the right timing, he can throw other lives out of order...as many as he damn well pleases.
What happens to the souls of those who die needlessly in busy intersections? Perhaps they find new homes in traffic lights. Yeah, perhaps...and that's bad for the rest of us.
What ended up on the page was something poetic and kind of rhythmic, and Milli loved it. I think it's pretty cool, myself.
Next week, we attempt to turn a strip club into a haunted house. Until next time...
Behind The Crawlspace Part 10 - "Chien Sauvage"
I'll wait a moment for you to write that down.
Got it? Good, let's move on...
PART 10 - CHIEN SAUVAGE
This one was an exercise for my Fear of Writing class. Moderator/instructor Milli Thornton told me she dislikes horror stories because of her affliction with PTSD; I told her, "Too bad, that's all I write," and she allowed me to be in her class anyway. Mighty generous of her, and I think both of us got the benefit.
I see no need for details here, but by no means am I on any moral high ground when it comes to cheating on the opposite sex. I think the majority of men cheat, and the rest who don't are thinking about cheating.
It's like the feeling you get after riding your first rollercoaster--the next one is faster and more thrilling, and the next one after that even more so. And then you find yourself searching all over for the wildest ride with the strongest g-force and the sharpest curves until you find the one that suits you just right, and even after you've ridden that one a few times, you look for an even better one. Cruel fact, but true.
So, leaving out the physical, emotional and societal damages, what are the consequences of cheating? One would hope, a guilty conscience...and that's where "Chien Sauvage" takes hold as ol' Brucie-boy's guilty conscience reveals itself by the light of a full moon. Fair warning, gentlemen (and ladies); this could happen to you!
And for the record, my favorite part of the story is the final three paragraphs.
Next week, another writing exercise, and another warning. Until next time...
Behind The Crawlspace Part 9 - "The Proper Technique"
PART 9 - THE PROPER TECHNIQUE
I wrote this story four years ago without having any idea what I was talking about.
Granted, that's a bad way to write fiction, but I mention this because I don't want to set myself up as an expert in the field of hypnosis, nor do I want to offend those of you who are.
Truth is, I believe hypnosis is real, and it serves a real purpose of circumventing the mental obstacles in some people's lives. And I really do dislike when it's abused for the entertainment of the misinformed. If you have this extraordinary gift, why waste it on making innocent dupes look like an ass in front of a howling audience? It's like winning a million dollars in the lottery and blowing it all in the casino the next day.
I don't want to argue the legitimacy of so-called "entertainment hypnotism" here, but when a guy hypnotizes a dozen people at once by screaming at them, and wakes them up to believe that they're having hot, meaningful sex with a chair, it not only looks cheesy--it's downright de-evolutionary. (I was going to post a video as an example, but I don't want to single out any performer). It is for this reason that I made Pervis Clay a shameless con artist, and why I made Mr. Braid, descendant of one of the founding fathers of hypnotherapy, the hero.
I admit that "Technique" is not nearly as good as Rod Serling's "Suggestion," from which this story borrows a cup of sugar, but it's good enough.
Next week, "Chien Sauvage." Until next time...
Behind The Crawlspace Part 8 - "I Scream, You Scream"
I'm very pleased to announce that my little book of horrors, The Crawlspace, has received a significant note of recognition. Of the dozens of books entered in the 2010 Hollywood Book Festival, mine was given Honorable Mention in the General Fiction category.
This is a very big deal! The HBF is an event that honors new authors with the purpose of showcasing their work to a host of Hollywood industry prime-time players. Even if one of the stories doesn't get made into a movie, The Crawlspace will at the very least be seen by many more eyes, some of which can make a world of difference in a writer's career.
For those of you who believed in me and trusted me with your minds for 148 pages, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This accomplishment is impossible without you.
For those of you who are still on the fence...well, now you've got a reason to buy! Click the PayPal button below to take the plunge!
And now, on with the show!
PART 8 - I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM
Anything can be scary when you hold a crooked mirror up to it.
While I was a member of Writing.com I received a random e-mail with a strange request: "Write a horror story about ice cream!" it said, paraphrasing. It would have been understandable to dismiss the e-mail as a veiled attempt at humor from an anonymous smart-ass, but something inside me took it as a challenge. If ice cream can be fried, I thought, then it can be made into a nightmare.
Consider the ice cream truck. Just the sound of those things driving by could be the soundtrack of a blood-soaked phantasm. Who hasn't heard one of those gas-guzzling sugar pimps jangling down the street with its mobile music box cranked up to 11? At times they're irritating, but sometimes they just make you wonder--who gets to drive those things? Are their backgrounds checked? Can listening to that kiddie music all afternoon drive you bat-shit crazy? Is it possible to turn a human liver into a frozen confection? Whoa! Ice cream trucks are dangerous things, my friend; stay as far away from them as you can!
I incorporated much of my own childhood memories into the story. Riding motocross bikes and playing football with your friends in the street was fairly commonplace in my old neighborhood, and when the ice cream truck came by, it was a break time that would beat all others you would have in your life. The walk home from President Avenue School was a long one, and though it never crossed my mind at the time, a lot could have happened.
"I Scream" is really about racism, with the point being that even the smallest act of racism can leave a scar that lasts forever. And even after the wrong is made right, you are never the same.
Next week, a battle between truth and mockery...with a human brain in the crossfire! Until next time... (and thanks again!)
Behind The Crawlspace Part 7 - "Trick"
PART 7 - TRICK
For most of you who have read it, "Trick" is a quaint piece of seasonal flash fiction. For me, it's an opportunity missed.
I've gotten a wealth of advice, criticism and inspiration from the folks at Writing.com during my brief membership a couple of years ago. One October they offered a writing contest in which subscribing authors were challenged to write a scary story of 1000 words or less based on a specific photograph chosen by the promoter. The photo was definitive Halloween gothic--a silhouette of a black cat against a full moon over an intimidating old house. I put the old woman in the house, made her lonely and bitter, and gave her something to love unconditionally only to have it stripped away by a heartless act. "Trick" was finished in about a day. I was so excited about it I submitted it without a word count, and it was disqualified. Not to brag, but I think it would have won.
I think "Trick" has the best opening line of all the stories in The Crawlspace. And, for the record, it clocks in at 565 words.
Speaking of Writing.com, one member challenged me to write a horror story about ice cream. The result is the story we'll be talking about next week. In the meantime, don't forget to join me for a discussion of my book and my craft at the first annual Laughing Moon Convention. I'm hearing the admission price will be far more reasonable than your typical convention memberships! Todd VanHooser is putting this all together, and he'll keep you posted. Until next time...
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